Dark Pastry Analogies
by RyuzakiYagami
Summary: Red is such a lovely color. It is the color of blood. It is the color of jelly, of jam, it is the color of strawberries, but ultimately, red is the color of love.


Crushing and immobilizing, the effects of betrayal touch on a wide variety of emotion. Like the miniscule decimal value of weight that tips a scale, betrayal can turn one to madness faster than any other human emotion. We've all experienced it at least once in our lives; the bitter and toxic feeling that suddenly begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach, or causes your blood to run colder than liquid nitrogen through your veins.

I am not afraid to admit that I know this feeling better than most.

I can recall once reading the Shakespeare play "Hamlet," a story which purely circled around love, betrayal, and , at this point in my life (or, afterlife) I can't say I was too different from the boy aside from the fact that I wasn't insane.

After all, we were both driven to the maddening point of self-sacrifice to succeed, were we not? And were we not both victorious in our demise?

The correct answer, is yes.

And now, this brings me to the main topic of my discussion…

Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is L. You need not to know anything more about my personal identity than that, and, of course, the fact that I am no longer alive. Currently I am stationed in a place where you could never find me. You could never get me. You could never bother me with frivolous human antics.

But I digress… This place is insanely boring, and because of the fact that boredom is something that I despise so deeply on _so_ many levels… I decided to take the time to write this piece. I had deprived myself of emotions for so many of those earthly years… I think it is about time that I depict all that was hidden.

The blood-red jelly filling beneath a frozen pastry… Yes… Mmm hmm hmm…

Red is such a lovely color.

It is the color of blood. It is the color of jelly, of jam, it is the color of strawberries, but ultimately, red is the color of love.

In the play, the betrayal that Hamlet dealt with was ultimately caused and driven by two different types of love. One being the love his uncle felt for his mother, which caused his father's murder, and the other being the family love that he felt for his father, which fueled his fire of revenge.

Ahh, what a perfect list of ingredients.

Love seems to be a common ingredient in the poison pastry of betrayal, and what greater love is there than the love between family and friends? Not only did love rule over little Hamlet, but it also ruled over me. I used it as my tactic. My weapon. Never did I think that it would backfire, nevermind on both of us. Light Yagami, whom I prefer to go on calling Kira from November Fifth on, was the icing on the cupcake. My cupcake, my life. Like the sweetest and most intoxicating part of our concoction, the sticky bond of our most desired others can easily be the one to draw us in, and eventually rot our teeth.

And once all the icing had been licked off (or rather, ripped off of the cupcake that was once your heart, your being) what is left besides the coarse, empty air pockets that were once bubbling so energetically, so full of life and sweet, scalding leavened promise?

What is left after you have been killed by the one you loved so deeply?

Nothing.

There is nothing left besides the flattened out, dismembered remains that had been picked apart by the vulture of a lover that had betrayed you. Certainly this is what Hamlet must have felt when he found out how his father was killed, although I doubt he had a sweet tooth as quite as big as mine to be thinking about pastries this much…

Now, what are we left with? The bottom of the cake, all black and charred after being left in the oven too long, forgotten, and the crumbs, the broken pieces of the heart of the confection, scattered in hopeless disarray.

This is how he left me, or rather my soul. Although, now that I think about it, I'm sure he burned my physical body, too, leaving no trace of my existence behind, sure to be forgotten.

But yet, it is with this seemingly hopeless rot that revenge is born, for it continued to stay there, in the pit of my consciousness, decomposing until all that is left is a dark, foul sludge that eventually vaporized so it could move freely again. This toxic smog couldn't help but cloud my vision with its poison, causing my thought process to commit error after error as it took its course throughout my mind, running blindingly on the old, bitter emotions yet to be resolved…

Hmm hmm, what am I saying? It wasn't error after error, it was strike after strike. Clean, crisp, deadly strikes brought down upon my ex-lover from this vast, ever-powerful realm of nothingness.

I made sure his life was ruined. I wanted revenge, and I wasn't alone, for you see, there were others left to clean up the mess that that horrendous cook, Kira, made. Mello and Near, my brilliant successors, who were left with the disgusting mess of a rotting carcass of a once superb cupcake.

It's hard to imagine them _not_ to be angry. Who likes cleaning up messes that weren't their fault to begin with? I can't think of anyone.

And thus, the betrayal begins to pass, and in its place, a new delicacy is formed.

A cake called Revenge.

Baked with care and careful precision, along with a few teaspoons of loving poison, a better replica of the cupcake is made. One that is more toxic, more vile, and more deadly… But nonetheless sweeter.

Who was little Kira to resist a taste, when it was covered in a brilliant array of shining candles? There was no way that he could. So, he blew the candles out, yet again releasing the smoke, the soul, of the cupcake that was still rotting deep beneath its sugary layers.

Right in its heart. And from its heart, it went to his, stopping it completely.

I was dead.

And at last, Kira was dead, too.

So then, just like a passing storm, the winds of change blew through and carried away the poisonous smoke of burnt pastry, leaving nothing but clear skies, clear minds, and a clean cookie sheet.

Revenge was something that I no longer needed, no longer something that I craved… However the bitter taste of betrayal still lingers in my mouth. Although I know that Kira, who, without his memory of being so, had no idea what was going on when we were so… passionately together, I can't help but still feel hurt and betrayed by him when he finally _did_ snap out of it.

Perhaps things will change, soon. He is expected to arrive in this desolate land of Nowhere any day now…

Perhaps I will make him a cookie.


End file.
